Okay, so I’ve written not one new word in the last three hours. Sure, I’ve poked at some of the older words, cleaned up the embarassing bits and focused a few conversations a bit better. But new words? Nada. Shouldn’t have flapped my gums earlier today about finishing tonight. Jinxed myself. Of course, the fact that I’ve been dreading writing Chapter XXXI since I started this rewrite has nothing to do with my stall tactics AT ALL. Nothing, I tell you.

God, it’s just staring at me. “XXXI” “XXXI”

If I was home, I’d go pull the cat’s tail. That always works.

They need to put speed and LSD in hotel mini bars. I can get a Snickers bar and a Coke across the street for a quarter as much as the hotel wants. If they’re going to over-charge me for stuff, why couldn’t it at least be things that I’d have to, you know, endanger myself to obtain. Isn’t that the point of “hotel ammenities”? Fucking room service menu sucks here too.


Now I’m really putting it off. Maybe I’ll go watch the rest of The Cell. Purty.